Shy
by Aldrean Treu Peri
Summary: A between-sessions story – another Faye-vignette sort of tale – whereupon she reflects on herself and those around her, specifically Spike Spiegel. Takes place just before ‘Hard Luck Woman’


Shy

_the heat is so great_

_it plays tricks with the eye_

_it turns the road to water_

_and then from water to sky_

_and there's a crack in the concrete floor_

_and it starts at the sink_

_there's a bathroom in a gas station_

_and i've locked myself in it to think_

It was …strange.  Almost uncomfortable even.  Great, it should have never come to this.  She should have never let it go this far, but it was too late to change the past, although maybe she could do something to make the present a bit easier to work with.  It would require speaking up to Spike and announcing something that he might not have even noticed, but she was a strong girl, she was a tough girl.  She could do this.  She just needed some time to work out just how she'd go about doing this, particularly because her voice was trapped in her throat and refused to come out, except in choked little laughs that made Spike glance at her a moment in what might have been concern.

      She hadn't ridden in an actual car in quite some time.  Usually it was a nice stay over on the Bebop until they found a new bounty to chase down and then it was straight to her ship, the Redtail, to kick some bounty booty.  If nothing else, she walked places.  Cars were something of the past almost, an endangered species of technology.  And she was sitting in the passenger side of a sleek black corvette with the windows down with Spike in the driver's seat as they cruised along the rough roads of earth.

      The radio was on, but the volume was so low that she could barely make out the tune, let alone the lyrics or whether the singer was male or female.  It was pointless to even have it on if you couldn't enjoy it, she mused, leaning towards the window, her cheek against her palm.  By gods the countryside of earth was boring!  The only variety there ever was was when the meteors of the moon fell from the sky, making the earth rumble and quake with each impact in the distance.  The comets streaking by came fewer and fewer with each passing year as the moon rocks became lesser in the sky.  There would come a day, perhaps, when the asteroid field surrounding earth formed by the Gate Incident would have depleted itself and the skies would be clear once more.  She thought, briefly, that she could recall a day when all she could see in day were the wispy white clouds, and then at night, only stars glimmered in the night sky, but the thought – memory? – was gone as quickly as it had come upon her.

      Apparently the silence between them had gone on for too long, for presently Spike was saying something in a light tone, designed to bring laughter and maybe short joy, and so she barked another fake laugh and tried a smile, and received another of his worried glances.  Without warning, Spike pulled the car to the side of the road – yet another pointless thing about this day, there was no other traffic, nor had there been all day – and turned the engine off, turning to face her with a deadpan expression.

      They sat there for an indeterminable time, he watching her wordlessly, she trying to stare out at the barren, dull landscape, until at last Spike broke the eerie quiet by reaching out hesitantly and grabbing her wrists, forcing her to lift her head and meet his mismatched stare.  There was something about his mahogany eyes, something different, something she could not quite pin down but she had a feeling that it was something important to who he was.  Sometimes, in a certain light, she could almost imagine his eyes as different shades; one lighter than the other, and another memory would spark.  There were tales about people with the eyes of wolves, two eyes of different colors, perhaps one of blue and one of gold, or hazel or brown.  But that was a different story, those people were born like that and she mused that even if Spike's eyes were not the same, it could not have occurred naturally.

      Her skin burned where Spike's hands were, tingling sensations that made her stomach twist into knots of anticipation and apprehension, making heat rise to her cheeks and she desperately hoped that he would pass her blush off as a reaction to the warmth of earth, temperatures far higher than the Bebop usually entertained – when the temperature regulation system was in operation that is.

      "Drop my hands." She demanded in a voice that was, thankfully, closer to normal than her laughter had been.

      A familiar quirky grin danced across Spike's features and his eyes flashed for a moment as a meteor soared across the horizon somewhere behind her, reflecting for a single heartbeat in his dark eyes.  "Why?"

      Oh, damnation, why did he have to be in a playful mood?  Her hackles rose as frustration at his behavior flared to life within her.  "Because I don't want you to touch me." She replied harshly, yanking to try and break his grip.  Sometimes she could have sworn that his grip was surer than that of Jet's metal hand.

      "I do a lot of things that you don't like.  Do you honestly expect me to quit now?" He inquired, making her arms move in the semblance of a dance.

      She swallowed and her face twisted in irritation as she rapidly blinked back tears, his grip firm and unyielding though not painful.  "Damn you, Spike!"

      The humor fell away from his expression and he regarded her in a serious light for far too long a time before speaking again.  "What's the matter, Faye?  You're not generally in such a dismal mood.  Care to enlighten me?"

      With a furious snarl, she ripped her wrists from his hands, a bit surprised to have met less resistance than she expected.  "No, I do not.  I'm hungry and thirsty and I have a headache.  Just drive again and pull over at the first gas station we come across." She crossed her arms in a huff and faced the window once more, sitting in a dark silence again before Spike finally restarted the engine and pulled the car back onto the road, the drive resuming without further comment from either as the radio crackled back to life, still too quiet to really hear.

_and back in the city_

_the sun bakes the trash on the curb_

_the men are pissing in doorways_

_and the rats run in herds_

_i've got a dream of your face_

_that scares me awake_

_i put too much on my table_

_and now i got too much at stake_

Faye pushed off the chilly wall within the bathroom of the rest station and sat down on the toilet lid, staring off at nothing with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting in her hands, tears blurring her vision as her jade gaze skimmed over the small interior of the restroom.  There was a dirty mirror above the sink, messages scrawled on the cold stone walls, messages scrubbed at and presumably fondled by horny fingers in anticipation, faded messages from a time probably long ago.  She was sure that it had been many years since this gas station had received any business, it was like she had taken a step back in time, one step back compared to a leap forward.

      The sink was of pale pink porcelain, smooth and cool like everything else in the room, the slender base a touch of beauty in the stark reality, and from the point where the base met the concrete floor, a crack split forth, branching off several times before each ended.  Her cheeks burned wetly and she realized with anger directed at herself that she was crying.  How pitiful, crying!  Crying over what?  Over the man she would never be able to hold, to kiss, to make love to as her own?  Over the unrequited love that she should have put a damper to at least, or, better yet, viciously stomped out when she first became aware of it?  It was a mild infatuation, she had foolishly believed.  It was a crush, a teenage issue that she should have grown out of by all rights.  Fuck it all, she was too old for this sort of crap!

      She gasped between sobs, futilely attempting to muffle her own misery, though it was doubtful that the broken sounds would make it far beyond her makeshift prison, and even more improbable that Spike would be listening.  This wasn't going to work.  She would not last another three days in his presence alone.  Screw the damn bounty; screw her piece of shit ship and his as well.  Screw the Bebop – likely over Callisto by now – and Jet for having them all split up to rake in more dough.  She hated Earth, why had she volunteered to partner up with Spike to round in this bounty head anyway?

      She slammed her fist into the wall, the tears on her hand, from trying to wipe her face, smearing the already muddled numbers and names left by pranksters and pathetic people of an earlier age.  Her rightful age.  This wasn't her timeline anymore, this wasn't her existence.  Kind of ironic how everyone always wanted to live so long, always wanted to last forever.  She never did, she had always been fond of her life and the present …or at least she imagined that she did.  Of course, it would have been nice if she knew for sure, but the chances of her memory returning were similar to her chances of finding happiness with Spike.  In other words, a snowball's chance in Hell.

      Oh, she was doomed now though.  She had made perhaps the biggest mistake of her life, took the stupidest risk she'd ever pulled, and sooner or later she would have to crawl out of this bathroom like the sniveling bug she was to face her sentence.  It wasn't really her fault though, not all of it.  She hadn't locked the doors when Spike had finally pulled into the gas station.  She hadn't asked Spike to hold her arms again and to demand, forcefully and gently at the same time, to say what was wrong.  And it hadn't been her intention to actually reply.

      "_You, damn it!  You, Spike!  You're what's wrong!  Can't you tell?  Isn't it obvious?  I …I think …I think I love you, Spike, and damn …it's killing me!  Every little stupid thing that you do, those wild, reckless stunts that you pull, your freaking voice of all things!  Everything that is even remotely related to you or something you do makes me shiver and burn at the same time.  God, I want you!"_

      Well.  It had been brutally honest and she had been able to break loose of his grip and unlock the door, half falling out when she had finally managed that, and scrambling to her feet and stumbling away, into the bathroom where she had locked herself inside with little, if any, intention of ever leaving.  It had been a gamble to say that much, a gamble that she, however much she enjoyed betting and playing the game, had not been ready to take.  Sweet god, her heart was at stake here!  How could she have been so stupid?  And here she had been calling _him_ the lunkhead.  Well, score one for her damn tongue.  She wished she could just shrink down into the bug she was to crawl into those cracks on the ground.

      Fumbling around for a moment, she cursed at her stupidity again when she realized that her gun was still in the car.  Not that she would have really shot herself, but it would have felt good to fire her gun, even if only to inflict damage to the room that was currently mocking her.  Shooting things usually released some of her tension, but that option had been taken from her again.  God she hated life sometimes.

      "FAYE!" Spike's voice, tight with controlled anger and with a tinge of concern.  He was looking for her.  Shit.

      She hastily scrubbed at her face with some paper from the roll of toilet paper at her side and scowled into the mirror as she managed to stand, albeit unsteadily.  Her face was a mess of mascara and tear streaks, flushed from her crying, and her eyes were red and puffy.  No time to doll herself up though, she thought, as she unlocked and opened the door, quietly slipping out.  Hunkered down low, she raced to the car and snatched her gun from her seat, grasping frantically for a piece of paper and a pencil or pen or anything to write with.  In another minute, she was gone.

_and i might let you off easy_

_yeah i might lead you on_

_i might wait for you to look for me_

_and then i might be gone_

_where i come from and where i'm going_

_and i'm lost in between_

_i might go up to that phone booth_

_and leave a veiled invitation on your machine_

Faye moaned out loud and let her head fall heavily onto the rain splattered window of the cheap hotel room she had gotten.  She really was a lunkhead.  In that moment of panic while she had been hurrying to get away, she had scribbled out a message to Spike, letting him know where she was going, and telling him not to follow.  And then she had contacted him, and told him to meet her in this exact room while she had been sitting in a haze of cigarette smoke and liquor in the bar of the selfsame hotel.  Now she was pressed against the window, looking out at the dreary world as the spring rain soaked it, and she found herself drained of everything inside.

      Outside, beside a familiar black vehicle, there stood a figure getting thoroughly soaked in the downpour, a figure that had been waiting in the rain for some twenty minutes now, just standing there and staring in the direction of the two-story hotel she had specified.  She wondered if he was staring at her, but she knew that he couldn't be.  He couldn't possibly know that this was her room from outside, but she still felt as though he was looking straight towards her.  And then she blinked, and he was gone, gone like he had never been there in the first place and for a moment she doubted what she had seen.

      She waited another half an hour before moving automatically, robotically towards the front desk, and she smiled when the flustered young boy working behind the counter stammered the answers to her question, though her smile was flimsy and forced.  Another five minutes of aimless walking had stopped her before a door on the first floor; a door corresponding to the numbers the front desk boy had given her.  She raised her hand, let it drop, and tried again, this time succeeding in knocking twice.

      She wasn't sure how long she stood there, only that the door eventually creaked open and Spike's wet and bedraggled form stood before her, his dark viridian hair plastered to his head and his clothes sticking to his lean frame, his face black and his eyes curious.

      Acting almost on impulse, scarcely aware of her thoughts, she reached out and placed a trembling hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling the heat from his body radiating through his cold, wet clothes and feeling the steady beating of his heart.  One of his hands reached up and closed over her own, the other lifting to delicately trace a path from her temple down to her chin, passing over her lips tenderly, before cupping her chin and bringing her face towards his own and kissing her softly, lightly.

      "Spike …" She breathed, bringing her other arm up to wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair.  "I don't care about yesterday or past lovers, I don't care about tomorrow, or the people to come.  All I care about is here and now and what I want more than air to breath, more than life to live."

      And he pulled her into his arms with a mixture of anxiety and tremulous disbelief, and as he brought her into his hotel room, she closed the door, with frightening finality behind them.

_and you'll stop me, won't you_

_if you've heard this one before_

_the one where i surprise you_

_by showing up at your front door_

_saying 'let's not ask what's next,_

_or how, or why'_

_i am leaving in the morning_

_so let's not be shy_

The rain had stopped, when she looked over to the window, basking in the warmth of his arms, as he lay at her side, naked like she herself.  Pressed against his chest, his arms tied about her waist, she listened to the reassuring beating of his heart, echoing her own, and she smiled fragilely as she felt his breath stir her hair.  She could almost feel his eyes, staring out the window like hers, both of them waiting for something neither knew of, simply waiting as night grew deeper.

      A star blazed by, far off, a welcome change from the never-ending rain of moon fragments, and she felt her smile strengthen as she whispered faintly, almost talking to herself.

      "There was a day …long ago …when it was believed that one could wish upon a falling star …and that wish would come true." She paused.  "I never did that.  I could not force my dreams to become a reality on the wings of another's weeping."

      She felt Spike's chest rumble with quiet laughter.  "I've heard it said, that falling stars are the tears of a warrior.  You were a considerate girl."

      And then she rolled over in his arms, her hands pressing against his face, recommitting his features to memory, though she knew already that she could never forget an inch of his body, and he kissed her forehead and held her tightly, before their minds drew to other things, and rational thought became impossible once more.

_the door opens, the room winces_

_the housekeeper comes in without a warning_

_and i squint at the muscular motel lady_

_says 'hey good morning'_

_and she jumps, her keys jingle_

_and she leaves as quick as she came in_

_and i roll over and taste the pillow with my grin_

_well, the sheets are twisted and tangled_

_and the heat is so great_

_and i swear i can feel the mattress_

_sinking underneath your weight_

_oh sleep is like a fever_

_and I'm glad when it ends_

_and the road flows like a river_

_and pulls me around every bend_

There was a bird chirping outside, perched upon the windowsill, a pleasant wake up call, though she fought to keep the disappearing threads of sleep.  It was a rare night when she could sleep the whole time without nightmares – memories perhaps – assailing her rest.  Still only half-conscious, she managed to raise her head from the pillow and peered at the stranger in the doorway, one of the hotel staff who had apparently arrived for cleaning.  And why not?  The only official occupant of this room was gone, probably checked out earlier that morning.

      The air was humid, the heat of the day almost stifling already, though it was only eleven o'clock in the morning.  Still an hour until she would have to check out of her own room, up on the second floor.  Still an hour to imagine that Spike lay sprawled out beside her, dozing lightly while dreading to face another day.  It would have been nice to stay with him longer, nearly incapacitated by the heat, to have stayed in his arms while the hours slipped away.  Nice was rare though.

      It would have been wonderful to wake in his arms, to his dreamy gaze, and to spend the rest of the day there without a care in the world.  They hadn't spoken, save for a few idle sentences, the whole night.  She figured that they wouldn't speak very much until the Bebop returned to pick them up either.  Spike was generally a man of action, not one of talk, and sometimes it was preferable that way.

_and you'll stop me, won't you_

_if you've heard this one before_

_the one where i surprise you_

_by showing up at your front door_

_saying 'let's not ask what's next,_

_or how, or why'_

_i am leaving in the morning_

_so let's not be shy_

Doohan was an eccentric fellow, although not entirely unpleasant she couldn't imagine staying there for too long, and luckily they wouldn't have to.  Their ships had been fixed quickly and, if Spike was confident in his work, repaired well also.  She couldn't explain the glimpse she'd had of Spike, looking mystified by the presence of the black young man, but it didn't matter in the long run.  They had both their vessels back and Jet had contacted Spike earlier, saying that the Bebop would be there before too long.  Apparently he had been cross, a sign that he and Edward had been unable to nab their bounty head, and she and Spike hadn't gotten their man either.

      Spike hadn't seemed to be really bothered by that.  "He was a small fry anyway." He had said.  Never mind the fact that even the small fries kept them fed for a while.  They'd all gone hungry before so it wasn't anything particularly new.

      "I gave her to you so you would take care of her, Spike.  So you would respect her and treat her good.  You've traipsed back in here three times in the past few months, first for an overhaul, and then twice so it could be pieced back together!  You're like a blasted kid, ripping the wings from butterflies or breaking his toys right away."

      Spike had grinned easily, hands in his pockets, and stopped whistling for a time.  "Why does everyone think of me as some rotten kid?  Not everyone is my dad!"

      "Seems to me, boy, if you'd had a real father you wouldn't have been quite so unruly today." Doohan had replied.

      Spike had shrugged, looking neither eager nor uncomfortable to be speaking of his buried past.  Faye however, had been intrigued.  How was it this old coot, who had bequeathed the Swordfish II to Spike, knew of his hidden past?  All Faye knew was what she'd been able to scrap together on the rare occasions that Spike had been made to face his past, and apparently it wasn't a history she could envy.  But all too soon, thoughts of that were banished, as they flew their ships up to the safe harbor of the Bebop beyond the asteroid field in space.

_the heat is so great_

_it plays tricks with the eye_

_it turns road to water_

_and water to sky_

_and there's a crack in the concrete floor_

_and it starts at the sink_

_there's a bathroom in a gas station_

_and i've locked myself_

_in it to think_

Faye sighed heavily and reclined in the tepid confines of the bath, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she let her thoughts have free reign for once.  She remembered his mild smile as he had sat before her in the junkyard of dead or dying computers and screens.  She remembered how he had welcomed her assistance in returning to the Bebop after facing down Tong Pu in that deranged theme park.  It was one of the few moments when he had been the vulnerable one, not she.  She was getting damn sick and tired of being the proverbial damsel-in-distress, the helpless harpy, she was a bounty huntress and a woman fully able to take care of herself!  Although it rarely seemed like it lately.

      She wearily extracted herself from the bathtub and stood a minute before the mirror before wiping away the fog.  It wasn't much of an improvement, but then again, she wasn't all that much to look at, at the moment.  Muttering irritably to herself, she dried off and donned her white robe, scampering quickly to her self-appointed room to dress in her tank top and shorts, casual wear for a casual day, despite the fact that it was early.  Spike was zonked out on the couch in the den room, or at least he had been feigning sleep, as she had passed by, and Jet was likely out in his room …wherever that was on the ship.  Ed, well, she'd seen the girl dozing with Ein as a pillow and snuggled up to the Tomato before hopping in the shower and so it was fairly safe to assume that the odd child was still there, in the hanger.

      Her fingers grazed lightly over the small videotape beside the television in her room and she warred with herself briefly before slipping the tape into the VCR and pressing 'PLAY' with shaking fingers.  The screen crackled to life, illustrating a young girl surrounded by friends, the very image of childhood joy and innocence.  Hard to believe it could be herself, she mused.  Could be.  Hah.  She knew damn straight that it was a phantom right out of her forgotten memories.  That little girl, that exuberant and bright cheerleader …that was Faye Valentine.  Or, she was that girl.  Her name was probably something else, but she'd been living with Faye Valentine too long to revert to what it once was, as if she'd remember all of a sudden anyway.

      It was time to leave the ship, she decided.  Things were, if not precisely strained between herself and Spike, then at least awkward, and they were being pulled in opposite directions along the same worn path.  She had to discover her past, he had to rebury his.  She rested one elbow on her knee and propped her chin in her hand, sitting cross-legged on the bed, and let herself make flimsy plans for the future, for learning of the past.  A slight, hesitant smile dawned upon her face for a moment as she entertained thoughts of herself and Spike, together in peace and joy, before they were dashed by cruel, cruel reality, and she forced herself to acknowledge things for what they were.  She had been allotted more than she would have ever thought possible, and now she had to let him forge his own way, as she went along hers only …where to start?

      The voice of the girl on the tape became background noise as Faye noticed the presence of another in her room and jolted around to come face-to-face with Edward.  Well.  Why not start with someone who'd lived on Earth for most of her natural life?  …It's been a wild ride, cowboy …she thought to Spike.  And if I never get a chance to say goodbye …

_and you'll stop me, won't you_

_you've heard this one before_

_the one where i surprise you_

_by showing up at your front door_

_saying 'let's not ask what's next,_

_or how, or why'_

_i am leaving in the morning_

_so let's not be shy_

Author's Notes: Well, has anyone else noticed that just about every song seems to go so well with someone or some event from the Cowboy Bebop Universe?  By gods, if that series wasn't just created for music!  Lol, no pun intended, folks.  Hmm, I seem to have quite a few Faye-fics floating around in my head of late, and I'm sorry if she seems OOC in this story, and if Spike does as well.  This is just a short little thing that escaped while I was trying to work on Chapter Two of 'Okay …3, 2, 1 …Let's Jam!'.  Argh, if all this little character fics keep slipping out, I may never get the second chapter finished!  Oh well, it's Bebop so it's still good.  Please review, people, unless I'm told what I could be doing different to make a better story, I'll never learn and thus never get it right!

See you, Space Cowboy!


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